


My Scars Hurt Less Than You

by ElvaDeath



Series: The World of Draco Malfoy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Hogwarts Sixth Year, One-Sided Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Sad Draco Malfoy, Sectumsempra, Sectumsempra Scars, Vanishing Cabinets (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvaDeath/pseuds/ElvaDeath
Summary: One-shot rewriting the Sectumsepra scene in the sixth year from Draco's POV. Follows the plot of the scene, just has Draco's thoughts and feelings during and after it.Sort of a prequel to my other fanfic, What's Left Behind. (Go check that out if you like this!)Draco doesn't deserve this, I don't know why I have to torture my child so much, but here you go. Enjoy!- E.D.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Series: The World of Draco Malfoy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580998
Comments: 3
Kudos: 137





	My Scars Hurt Less Than You

**Author's Note:**

> I might rewrite other scenes from the books, tell me what you think.
> 
> Comments are really appreciated! They help me know what you want me to write, and what you enjoy or don't.
> 
> Remember, if you're interested in my What's Left Behind work, please tell me your opinions for the questions I left on chapter 3. I'm putting off writing the next chapter until I know what people want, but I'll start writing again on sunday, so get your opinions there!
> 
> Anyway, enough introductions. Here's some more depressing Draco. Enjoy!  
\- E.D.

Draco, finally away from all the worried eyes, crashes into the bathroom. His heart rate must have hit a million beats per second along the way, judging by his harsh breath that doesn't quite gather enough oxygen. Myrtle screeches as she rips out of the floor, and stops as she sees who it is.  
“Oh! What’s happened?”  
Her voice is eager, joyful at knowing another’s misery, but Draco doesn’t care. She’s the only one who can’t tell anyone else, or doesn’t care enough to try. A miserable ghost is perfect for him.

Hurrying through her to the sink, he clenches his hands on the rim, and lets it all loose. Tears drop down his face, running in rivlets to disappear down the drain. He can’t do this anymore. The cabinet is impossible to fix - he’s tried everything! There’s nothing else he can do!  
Giving up, however, is never an option, not if he wants his mother and father alive. He knows the Dark Lord will pleasure in tearing their skin from their bones in front of him, especially if Draco’s the one who caused it.

Gasping, shuddering with tears, he wipes carelessly at his face with his sleeve. It doesn’t matter if he’s got stains there now. The only thing that matters is the fucking cabinet. He can already see it: the term ending, the cabinet still sitting there, empty. Dumbledore dead man he’s just a dead man walking it’s impossible he can’t be killed but he will be it’s him or them why can’t you kill him giving his closing speech of the year. Packing up his things, leaving a note for Pansy, just in case.  
Going home.  
To an empty Manor.

Not empty, no. He can see it clearly. The blood, the twisted bodies of house elves littering the hallways. No Dark Lord. No Death Eaters. Father, hung by his ankles from the ceiling of the dining room. Stomach ripped open and guts spilling onto the silver plates, a meal for Nagini. Mother, sprawled across the floor in a last ditch effort to save him.  
Dead.  
Dead.  
Dead!  
DEAD!!!

His whole body aches with the force of his sobbing now, trembling, shaking his soul loose. Distantly, he hears Myrtle whispering comfort, hissing like a snake. Like Nagini.  
“Don’t... don’t… tell me what’s wrong… I can help you…”  
The words feel like an insult. Help? No one helps a Malfoy. They punch and kick and laugh and crucio, because Malfoy’s are dirt. Malfoy’s don’t cry. Malfoy’s are too used to the pain to cry. Draco knows he will be a Malfoy soon, in its true sense of the word. He knows the truth of what a Malfoy is, the truth hidden behind the lies of his childhood, and now he has to suffer for his naivety.

“No one can help me.” His voice wavers under the disgust at himself. “I can’t do it… I can’t… it won’t work… and unless I do it soon… he says he’ll kill me…” and my entire family and everyone I’ve ever loved or liked or even known!  
His quivering fingers clench and unclench around the sink as new floods of tears overwhelm him. He’s so scared. He’s so scared and he’s not even wanting to hide it anymore. He’s so scared and he would scream it out to the world, tell everyone to gather to see the great Malfoy heir absolutely shitting himself if only the Dark Lord would forgive his father and pass this miserable fate on to someone else. His eyes raise up, throat ready to erupt in a scream, when his eyes meet piercing green ones in the mirror.

Potter. Rage and humiliation combined sear through him as he wrenches his wand out, throwing a hex past Harry and into a lamp. Potter it’s Potter this is not the time to think about Harry! The boy’s eyes widen, throwing himself to the side and returning a spell which Draco easily flicks aside. Leave leave now please just go away I don’t need trouble not now and then hexes and jinxes are flying around them and draco’s so panicked he doesn’t want to get hurt but he doesn’t want Harry to get hurt but the Dark Lord’s face is flashing through his mind and it’s all too much he can’t hurt any more and-

“Cruci-”  
“SECTUMSEMPRA!”

Pain. Pain knotting every limb and muscle a thousand times over, life bleeding out as he stumbles silently. No sound is enough to justify the pain. With crucio you scream, and scream, and scream, like the curse itself enjoys it. Here, now, the world tips silently, noise murky outside the ringing of danger bells in his mind.  
Perhaps he will die, he wonders idly as his wand clatters to the floor, pale body following it a moment later. Perhaps he will sail up to heaven, or at least someplace quiet, to wait. The Dark Lord will send his parents soon after, and he’s ashamed to cause it, yet he can’t stop wishing they can be happy again, someplace else. Up there.

The sound of Harry’s babbling drifts in and out of range. Something wet is one his face. Blood, he supposes. His own blood. Fitting, to be killed by his arch nemesis who he never really hated. Spite isn’t the best motivator, he realises now, too late. Sitting in a tree all day, waiting for him to come by, it doesn’t radiate hate. Oh well. Too late now.  
Uncle Sev’s face floats over his dimming vision, and he finds it a little odd. Thinking of him before he dies. A wand passes over his vision, and the dulling pain sharpens again, the noise starts to rush back in, and Draco wants to smack it away in frustration. Can’t he at least die in peace?

But he’s not dying, not anymore. No, instead, he’s being pulled to his feet, and the pain is stabbing his mind relentlessly. Snape is murmuring something, because Snape is real. And Potter is still there. He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t dare glance at the hateful boy’s face, clinging to Snape as he is half-dragged out of the bathroom.  
“...may be a certain amount of scar-” Even now, Draco’s mind blanks, still busy trying to process it. He feels ashamed. On the brink of death, and he was looking forward to it. Malfoys should be strong. If his father ever knew, he would be so ashamed of Draco, he might disown him.

“And you, Potter… you wait here for me.”  
They’re out the door then, yet Draco doesn’t pull his eyes away quick enough. They meet the green ones, framed with round glasses, filled with shock. The green eyes of the boy who almost killed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco recovers in the Hospital Wing, brought chocolates and sweets by Pansy. Despite Madam Pomfrey’s best efforts, large scars still ruin his porcelain torso, a permanent reminder. Pansy wastes no time in spreading the news of Potter’s doings, leading to many unpleasant conversations with ‘sympathetic’ students.  
He just wants to sleep. No work, no people, no fixing the damn cabinet. Only the bliss of nothingness. Pansy brings him work, and news of the school, and pets his hair when he spaces out for too long. His heart sparks with affection for her when she comes, missing out on staring after Blaise so she can make him laugh. He doesn’t deserve her.

Potter gets away with detention. Detention, for almost murdering another student! Hogwarts really has gone to the dogs.  
Draco and Pansy whine about it for all of one of her visits, waving their arms and mocking Potter’s saviour act. He doesn’t think he ever has much fun unless he’s laughing about how ridiculous Potter is. It almost makes him proud of the scars. ‘Hey, look, Potter isn’t all that great! Look what the coward did to me!’

The night before he’s let out, he lets himself think about what actually happened. In the dark, silent wing, he finally acknowledges what he had tried to do. A crucio.  
The thought makes him sick. After so long of experiencing the bone-crushing, skin-wrenching pain, he must have automatically linked it to his fear in the moment and… out it came. It wouldn’t have worked, he knows that. A crucio requires intent, hate, and a desire to see the person on the other end of the wand hurt. Draco had none of that.

It doesn’t matter, Potter will still see him as one of those people. A Death Eater who pleasures in throwing pain and devastation towards anyone within range. That hurts more than the throbbing scars.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The she-weasel is going out with the Golden Boy.

The poor wench and the loaded saviour.

Weasel spawn and adopted Weasel spawn.

The...the freckled…

Why should Draco care?!

It still hurts.


End file.
